The Story That Was Never Told
by kim-evadreamer
Summary: An old friend is not who everyone thinks she is. Draco has a tricky mission to navigate. Harry struggles with a huge loss. Where does Hermione fit in here? A Dramione fanfic! No OC's! Rated M for language and for encouraging evil suggestively.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's note : **APOLOGIES!! I'm so sorry for the lack of updates, things have just gotten really crazy busy all round. So yeah, I recently went over my old chapters and well… I decided to edit them due to many, many cringe-worthy lines I came up with ages ago. I won't be changing the storyline, just fixing the really bad bits here and there. The next chapter will be up once I'm done editing. I promise! Thank you to all of you who have stuck around!

**Chapter 1**

From a huge foreboding castle, in the darkest depths of a vast forest, the sharp cry of a baby was heard. The Dark Lord's cold, glinting eyes hinted emotion at the sight of his new heiress.

"_Perfect_…"

That was barely 3 months before the deaths of Lily and James Potter and the undoing of Lord Voldemort. What many don't know, is that in his fragile state, You-Know-Who returned to his lair, raising and teaching the young girl. The girl grew in the shadow of the Dark Arts. She was a powerful witch, not just for her tender age but also her time.

At the age of 10, the girl was sent to live with common muggles. Passing as a born and bred muggle, she entered Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry at the age of 11. Her true identity was kept a total secret from even the innermost circle of Deatheaters.

As the years went by, the Dark Lord's heiress was still pretending to be the Gryffindor goody-two-shoes, cunningly befriending her father's enemies in order to stay hidden.

On the eve of her 17th birthday, Lord Voldemort decided it was time for change.

"My daughter…I have decided it is time you fought by my side. The end of the War draws near. Tomorrow night, the Dark Side will acknowledge their long-awaited Princess!"

Hermione's face lit up as she rose from kneeling before her father.

"And as for that school, you won't be going back. After the summer, you will resume your lessons with me." Lord Voldemort finished, looking down at the beautiful young girl.

A grin pulled at her lips.

"You are too kind, father…" she kissed his hand before sweeping out of the dungeon, her robes licking at her ankles.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Hermione looked herself over in the mirror. Over the years, her dark, chocolate-brown hair had lost its bushy, frizzy look although it remained as wild as ever. Tonight, she wore it wound elegantly in a coil at the back of her head. Hermione fingered the ornate chain around her neck as she studied her own appearance. Her father had insisted she wear green tonight, despite her own aversion to color. Her robes were long and elegant, made of a beautiful satiny material. Her thin, pale fingers traced the silver snake that wound around a glittering deep-green jewel of her necklace as she stared at the girl in the mirror. Gathering courage, she tore her eyes from her reflection swept out the door.

Draco Malfoy gaped at the young lady as if she the goddess Venus herself had descended to earth. His eyes followed the girl coming down the steps that led to the brightly lit dungeon like a hawk. He couldn't see her face, only the elegant arch of her back and the slight sway of her hips as she came down the steps alone.

"Draco!"

The sudden sound of Blaise Zabini's voice nearly made him jump a foot in the air. However, he was a Malfoy and Malfoy's did not jump, especially not in surprise.

"What?" he growled irritably.

"Looks like Granger decided to ditch Potty and Weasel." Blaise nodded towards the girl Draco had been staring at. A smirk played at his mouth, coal-black eyes glinting in apprehension.

Draco felt like someone had just hit him in the stomach. _Hard_.

_Granger… __**Hermione**__ Granger... _

_What the hell was she doing at here?! _

_And worse- when the hell did she get so bloody __**hot**__?! _

_Get a grip…It's just a girl…_

Recovering in an instant, Draco answered Blaise with a smirk of his own.

"This'll be fun…" he muttered stalking up to Hermione in the arrogant way only a Malfoy can, Blaise in tow.

As he neared her, Hermione caught sight of him. Her expression turned icy cold when she did, her chin tilted upwards defiantly as a sneer expressed her distaste.

"Well, well, well... Look who's all grown up." He drawled, stopping before her and crossing his arms over his chest with a smirk. His steely silver eyes bored down into her own.

"Look who's _not._" Hermione retorted shortly. She met his gaze, her amber eyes blazing, not the least bit intimidated by him.

Blaise, who seemed to find they're bickering amusing, snickered from where he stood beside Draco. The other two threw him a dirty look each.

"What the hell are you doing here, _Mudblood_?" Draco shot back, turning back to Hermione, his smirk gone.

The rage in her eyes flared up instantaneously. If looks could kill, we would have lost two major plot points. Unlike Blaise who backed off a few steps with a nervous gulp, Draco found this look positively _enticing_.

"Mind you own business, _Malfoy_." She hissed coldly, walking away.

Draco stared after her, confused, amused and awed. That was _definitely_ not the old Granger…

* * *

"Good evening and welcome, one and all…"

The low voice of the Dark Lord weaved like a smooth, cool snake through the dungeon.

"Tonight, we gather to celebrate a momentous occasion. Mmm… Momentous indeed. You see, tonight marks the night of the coming of age and coming out of my beloved daughter."

Murmurs and gasps ran through the small crowd of people that gather before the platform instantaneously. A _daughter_?! Sweet Circe! When did this happen?!

A smirk tugged at Lord Voldemort's lipless mouth.

"I shall not keep her from you any longer. May I introduce to you, my loyal friends, Hermione Nafiri Riddle!"

Hermione took her father's hand delicately as she stepped up to the platform. Her head held gracefully high, she gazed around the dungeon. To say it was cheerful would be a downright lie. And yet dreary wasn't quite the right word. The stone walls rose to the regal domed ceiling. Fire danced from lit torches all along the walls and from the candles of the chandelier. Behind her, charmed musical instruments played of their own accord. In front of her was a small crowd of guests. They stared up at her, dumbfounded and awed. Her heart swelled jubilantly. After all these years, finally she would receive the respect she deserved. Finally, she would stand by her father's side and fight for their cause.

As the Dark Lord stepped down, Hermione followed suit. Death Eaters humbly kissed the hem of her robes and pledged their undying loyalties as she made her way through the throng of people at her father's arm.

* * *

Draco stared at the, now empty, platform, his jaw still slightly agape.

_Bloody hell…_

_Only a moment ago, he had been staring at __**You-Know-Who's daughter's ass**__! _

_Oh shit…_

_He'd called her a __**Mudblood**__! He'd called her a Mudblood for seven years!_

_Hang on one goddamn second!!_

_**Hermione Granger**__ is You-Know-Who's daughter?! _

_What the fucking hell was going on?!_

He threw back his flute of champagne with vigor, trying to take it all in as he watched Hermione mingle with the followers. The girl had a regal, powerful air about her. The kind of aura that demanded respect. Respect that was readily given. He watched the way she walked intentedly. Like a fearless lioness, strong and proud, she held her own. All that and she was a living goddess.

_Waaaiit… Why the sudden fascination __**Mudblood Granger**__?_

_Ah, but she's not Mudblood Granger anymore is she? She's a Pureblood, a Riddle…_

_Right… So… If anything… It should be encouraged…?_

The realization hit him like a pleasant breeze on a stifling hot day. Draco smirked at his own genius. Not far away, Hermione was now pouring a drink for herself.

_A golden opportunity…_

The smirk still plastered on his features, he sauntered over.

"Hey…"


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Hermione watched the red liquid, which was her drink, trickle gently from a ladle into her glass.

"Hey…"

The sudden voice caught her off-guard. She turned around sharply, her drink swaying violently in the motion.

Upon seeing Draco's smirking face, she scowled and turned wordlessly back to the punch bowl.

_Arrogant prat…_

"Would you do me the honour of a dance, fair lady?"

This time, Hermione really did drop her glass in shock. It fell to the ground shattering into a pool of red punch and shards of glass. She froze on the spot for an instance, staring at him with wide eyes.

_What?!_

"Here, let me-" he started to take out his wand to clean up the mess of glass.

"No! Its fine… Really." Hermione jolted back to reality, snapping curtly at him, her own wand already out.

A flick of her wrist made quick work of her broken glass. Then the two stood staring at each other, not quite sure what to do next. Hermione had never felt a more awkward moment in her life.

"Do you want to dance?" Draco repeated.

The cocky smirk, she'd always loathed had returned. Glittering silver eyes challenged her.

_I dare you…_ They whispered tauntingly.

_I'll show him…_

Taking his hand with a burning defiance in her eyes, she let him lead her onto the dance floor.

Hermione groaned inwardly as the rhythm of a tango struck up. Draco's smirk grew (if at all possible) wider at her obvious discomfort.

Without a hint of warning, Draco pushed her into a series of complicated dance steps. Hermione graced through them, never breaking her glare.

_Two can play this game…_

Smirking back at him, she wordlessly force-fed him a few of her own tricks. To her dismay, he was surprisingly able to pull them off. Then, Draco twirled her out and pulled her back sharply into his vice-like grip.

_Jerk…_

It was only then that Hermione noticed how close he was.

_Shit…Not good… Not good…_

She could feel his short breaths, warm on her forehead. Her stomach quivered as her heart started beating a little too fast. Nervously, she wriggled in his hold, hoping to put a kilometre, at least, between them.

All around them, couples were slowly joining them in the lively dance. Sharply, he twirled her again.

_And I thought it couldn't get any worse…_

But it had. Now, her back was pressed against him, right hand caught in his. Her mind was racing, on the verge of trembling.

_Get a grip…_

"So, about just now…" came Draco's drawl as he dipped his head close to her ear.

Hermione clenched her jaw, determined to seem unaffected and calm.

"Sorry now, are we?" she asked with a little too much sweetness.

He turned her again, to face smirking silver eyes.

_What am I? A rag doll? Merlin! _

"A Malfoy never apologizes."

Hermione completely missed the glint of humour in his stormy eyes.

"You insufferable prat!" she hissed, trying to wrench herself free.

With a smirk, Draco tightened his grip on her wrist, only to be greeted by a dangerously low growl.

"Let me go, ferret-face…"

The furry insult hit a home run. Smirk turned to frown as he returned her threat.

"Watch your mouth, Mud-" Draco stopped short. He'd gone one step too far.

Fire flickered in Hermione's golden-brown eyes. This time it wasn't a playful flame. Draco knew he was in deep shit. His grip loosened unintentionally.

Before he knew it, she'd seized his arm and dragged him out onto the veranda. Pushing him back with a sudden force, his back hit the cold, stone wall. Her furious glare held him frozen there.

"What did you say?" Her falsely sweet voice was daring him to speak.

It was a game, one wrong move and there would be hell to pay. For the second time in his life, Draco was scared of this girl. He gulped nervously, eyeing the wand held at his throat.

"Freak?"

Game over. Roughly, she grabbed his collar and would have slammed his head painfully against the wall had she been a little stronger.

"Nice try Malfoy, but we both know what you said. Call me that again and I'll hurt you so _fucking_ bad that you'll be dragged to the brink of insanity and back! Don't _fuck_ with me, Malfoy! I'm _perfectly_ capable of worse…"

Her words echoed through his mind as her raging eyes met his. Golden fiery red swirled and sparked. Magic saturated the air around them. Suddenly it was getting difficult to breathe. Sweet Merlin, she was choking him! His eyes widened with sudden panic.

And then… one second he was staring into the inferno of hell and next, the star-lit night sky.

* * *

Hermione practically fled to her room. The moment she slammed the door closed, she froze against it in the darkness. Slowly, she slid to the carpet floor, staring into nothing.

How could she have been so stupid? To nearly loose control of her temper like that? It was all his bloody fault! That _asshole_!

"Mao?"

The golden eyes of her huge kneazle glinted in the dark. With a grace that came naturally to all felines, Crookshanks leapt into her mistress's lap, purring handsomely. The soothing noise washed away the rage, the panic, and the fear even.

Closing her eyes and letting her head fall against the door, she stroked the silky ginger fur. She could practically see those stormy silver eyes in her mind, if she tried. Filled with panic and wide with fear. Swirling liquid mercury…

Crookshanks 'meowed' indignantly. Snapping out of her reverie almost immediately, Hermione glanced down to meet Crookshanks' sharp gold glare.

"You're right. Malfoy is just a stupid little prick… I shouldn't let him get to me. I won't let him get to me! Hell, I don't let anyone else rile me up, why should he be allowed to! Anyway, it's not like I'll have anything more to do with him… Oh, for Gods sake, don't look at me like that!"

Unfortunately for this girl, she would have a lot more to do with Draco Malfoy.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4 **

Harry Potter lay in bed, tossing and turning, struggling against his bedsheets in the darkness. Sweat soaked his raven-black hair and dampened his clammy skin. His head was searing with pain. A white hot burning pain. Before his clamped shut eyes, dark images played, like a nightmare you couldn't see, one that you couldn't wake up from.

"_You will guard it with your life, Lucius… Another accident like the diary and I may not be so merciful..." The cold, hard voice chilled him to the bone._

"_Yes, Master, of course. When shall I expect it to arrive?" _

"_Tomorrow. Remember, you will be watched… Closely…" Voldemort's voice was lowered dangerously. _

"_I will not fail you, my Lord… I will not fail you..." _

With that, brilliant green eyes snapped open, wide with the fear of a young boy.

* * *

Nagini uncoiled herself and slithered from the Dark Lord's neck as a loud _'POP'_ signified an Apparation into the dimly lit room. Hermione stood before her father, looking fearlessly up at him. It was eerily cold but that didn't bother her. She'd grown up with it. The huge snake coiled itself in its master's lap.

"You're seveenteen now, Nafiri…"

Hermione eyed him sharply at his mentioning her middle name. It was her late mother's name and she hated anything to do with the dead woman. _Hermione_, on the other hand, had been her father's choice. After _Hermes_, the god of cunning and theft.

"Now, my girl… I'm sure you know very well, that it is a custom of our people to be betrothed at the coming of age…" Voldemort paused, stroking the glistening black scales of his snake.

Hermione's jaw dropped.

_What?_

She had been expecting him to send her on a mission. Not _this, _never _this_.

"I… wait… _what_?" she stumbled uncharacteristically.

Voldemort sighed. Letting the massive reptile slide to the ground, he rose, towering over her.

"To be engaged, Hermione. To a man?" he impatiently tried to make things clear.

"I know what engaged is..." She huffed.

The Dark Lord laughed. A cold sound, banking on unfeeling. It echoed softly in the shadows.

"That is good... Now… I have a suitor in mind…" he trailed off.

"You're going to set me up?!" Hermione fought to keep her voice even.

_Why couldn't he have just wanted someone killed? Or… or… Tortured? Or just something! _

"I am indeed… But you _will_ of course, get the final say in _who_ you will marry. Although, I think you will like my choice of a suitor. Of course, only the best…" A cold smirk grew.

Hermione nearly rolled her eyes _again_. It was just like him to force her into such madness. Her father was very particular about heritage. Which meant her suitor was most probably some rich pretty-boy Pureblood from the most 'noble' of families.

"But why on earth would I need to get _married_ of all things?" she exclaimed.

Voldemort's expression grew serious again.

"Our plan is a dangerous one. You know this. When we emerge victorious, I want a guarantee that you will be married and will produce an heir. This custom is the perfect cover to garner you a husband before..." He trailed off, eyeing her meaningfully.

_The mastermind plan…_

The very thought gave her chills. Such a fool-proof plan. And it could _not_ fail. The Dark side depended on it.

He was right. As much as she hated to admit. He was right.

"So, my daughter... You will go do it?"

_Aw, heck!_

"Fine… But _only_ because of the mission..." she sighed defeated, but still holding his gaze. There was no point refusing him anyhow. Not unless she was looking for punishment.

"Besides, it's not like I have to _like_ the guy… Right?" she added wearily.

The smirk came back, lighting his snake-like eyes in a sinister way.

"Oh, I think you will. As you can imagine, I would not have you marry anyone less thans the _purest _of Pure. The _richest_ of the rich –"

"Cut to the chase…" she interrupted him, her patience running dangerously short.

His expression darkened menacingly.

"What have I told you about interrupting me, daughter?"

There was silence for a moment.

"I concluded that Mr. Malfoy would be sufficient to our needs." He said finished, leaning back into his chair.

"_LUCIUS MALFOY?!_" she practically yelled. Her voice echoed through the dim room.

A hand went to his pale temple and his eyes closed for a moment.

"Merlin! Don't be ridiculous, girl! That idiot is already married! He'd probably be _dead_ by the time you're 30!" He barked at her in exasperation once his eyes blinked open.

"No. Young Draco Malfoy it shall be." He said finally, his voice calm once again.

_Fuck… _

* * *

Shelves full of books lined the walls of the office in which two men sat. The older sat behind a desk, speaking to the younger.

"Now, Draco, you know of the Dark Lord's plan, yes?" Lucius looked at his son seriously, his hands clasped before him.

Draco reached for the crystal ball that sat on the table.

"Yes, yes... A brilliant plan to dispose of Wonderboy and take over the world..."He recited in a tone of boredom, fiddling with the crystal.

"Well, my son, the Dark Lord has expressed his wish for _you_ to be part of this delightful plan!" Lucius' eyes danced with delight as he watched his son.

Draco merely raised a graceful brow, the crystal was held still.

"Oh? And am I to offer my services to _His Majesty_?" he drawled sarcastically.

"By getting _married_, my boy..." Lucius explained, ignoring his son's sarcasm. There was no time to reproach him.

Draco smirked, continuing to twirl the crystal ball in his hand. In his mind, he imagined a gorgeous, leggy blonde hanging off his arm. Nothing too bad about _that_...

"A _brilliant_ plan indeed…" he commented agreeably.

Lucius eyed his son with the famous Malfoy smirk.

"Glad you see it my way, Draco. Now, she will be staying with us for a while. And she may need some... _persuasion_. If you catch my drift?"

Draco smirked all the wider.

"_Way_ ahead of you, father..." he drawled.

The older man leant back in his chair.

"Only remember, Draco... This girl... could prove to be… difficult. Please, son, _be careful_... A wrong move on your part could cost you your life..." he warned his son.

Draco turned to him.

"Who are we dealing with? A wild animal or some girl? Trust me, Father, I can handle _anything_ a girl can throw at me... Who is she anyway? "He scoffed.

"None other than _Ms. Riddle_... Daughter of the Dark Lord..." Lucius smirked triumphantly, as if he had won some sort of grand prize for his only son.

The crystal ball in Draco's hand smashed on the floor with a ringing _CRASH_!

_Fuck..._


	5. Chapter 5

**

* * *

**

Once again, this comes really late and for that I apologize repeatedly! Loads of thanks to the reviewers! Those lovely words are rocket fuel to my writing! Well, here goes the next chapter, I hope you like it…

**Chapter 5**

A sudden string of loud, hurried knocks startle him, his elegantly penned 'e' morphing into a horribly disfigured cross between a 'y' and a 'z'. Lucius cursed as he lay down his quill and ran a hand through his hair in frustration.

"What!" he barked at the door of his office.

"Father – " started Draco.

"Tell your mother that no, she is not to convert the Lower West Wing into another wardrobe. Why, in Merlin's name can't she just shrink her robes? Anyone would think her a Squib the way she carries on so… Honestly…" Lucius cut him off impatiently, assuming the reason for his interruption. He moved to recover his quill.

As he spoke, Draco pushed open the door to step inside.

"As bad as Mother's robe collection is, there is something a lot worse in the sitting room." Draco told his father with a grimace.

Lucius glanced up from his letter, confusion painting his face.

"Ms. Riddle is here." Draco stated simply.

The older man's complexion went from its usual pale porcelain to a color remarkably similar to that of the Gringott's building in Diagon Alley. In an instant he was up and out the door.

"Why wasn't I notified when she entered the gate? I have wards up all over the estate!" he muttered angrily as he brushed past his son.

"She didn't even use the door, never mind the bloody gate…" Draco muttered more to himself as he trailed after his father.

"Mr. Malfoy." Hermione said with a polite nod of her head as he approached her.

She stood before the front door with her hands clasped. Her wavy framed her pale face. Heavy, deep navy cloaked her body, clasped with a sparkling onyx stone at her throat. Her red lips pursed pleasantly and her dark eyes were indecipherable. Hermione was without doubt the embodiment of a perfect Pureblood upbringing.

Lucius smiled tightly, looking to all as though it pained him to do so. Both himself and Draco wore the same mask of feigned chivalry as she did, Lucius' looking more forced than his son's.

"Miss Riddle… So lovely to have you here. You saw yourself in the gate?" Lucius asked, immensely annoyed at being caught off-guard and also deathly curious as to why his wards had not alerted him when the girl entered his grounds.

Hermione smiled pleasantly as she answered, knowing full-well how irritated the older Malfoy was for being bested by a young girl. Although, technically, breaching the wards had been her father's doing.

"It was raining." She said silkily.

Lucius swallowed thickly, suppressing the urge to snarl at the insolent little girl. Before any of them could continue with their charade of decorum, the Malfoy men felt their Marks burning. Draco winced involuntarily, still not entirely used to the sensation of the pain that twisted deep in the bone of his forearm. Lucius remained stoic, although his grip on his cane tightened discretely.

Hermione watched the two for a moment, with something akin to amusement in her eyes. She had been anticipating this.

"The Dark Lord calls." She informed them, businesslike, before Dissaparating with a loud crack.

* * *

"Any word?"

Ginny Weasley glanced up from her book. Her eyes met with green and she smiled grimly, shaking her head. Harry's face fell, if possible, even more. She sighed and patted the space next to her on the couch invitingly. Slowly, he made his way over to her, his face etched with worry and fatigue. It pained her to see him like this. She knew he'd been having nightmares again and was getting little sleep. And with no answer to any of the owls they had sent Hermione since they parted at King's Cross last June…

She placed her book down and reached out to put her arms around Harry as he sat beside her, hugging him tightly.

"I'm sure she's fine, Harry. She probably went abroad with her parents and hasn't had the chance owl. We'll hear from her soon, don't worry."

Her words were quiet and surer than she felt. She pulled back with a small, reassuring smile, her eyes searching his face. Harry remained motionless, staring unseeingly straight ahead at the carpet. Her smile faded. It was getting harder and harder to talk to Harry, who seemed to withdraw into himself further and further every day.

"Harry?"

He glanced at her for a moment, his eyes indecipherable, before returning to stare at the carpet.

"Yeah, Ginny. You're probably right…" He finally said, his voice quiet and lacking conviction.

Ginny released him and sat back in the couch silently, moving to retrieve her book.

Sudden commotions made the both of them glance sharply towards the doorway. Instantly they were both on their feet, wands drawn.

"Kitchen" Harry nodded towards the door, his voice low and dangerous.

Nodding, Ginny followed him, her heart clenched with fear, wand at the ready. The house had gone silent as they made their way down the hall towards the kitchen, their eyes darting left and right.

"PUT THOSE _BLASTED_ THINGS AWAY BEFORE SOMEONE LOOSES AN EYE!"

The barking voice caused both of them to jump and Ginny let loose a small scream. Mad-Eyed Moody emerged then and stalked out of the kitchen, brushing past them, obviously in a foul mood. Good mood or bad, Moody was a welcome sight and the two relaxed visibly, although their breathing was still a little heavy. Stashing their wands away, they were about to enter the kitchen when they stopped short. There, standing in the middle of the kitchen, thoroughly drenched and shivering was Blaise Zabini with Molly Weasley trying to put a warm towel over his wet shoulders.

The two gaped openly.

"Zabini?! What the _fuck_ are _you_ doing here??" Ron roared, having heard the commotion and just dashed down the stairs, wand still drawn.

"_LANGUAGE_ RONALD!" Mrs. Weasley roared back at him, pausing from trying to get Blaise to sit down.

Blaise seemed nearly delirious, pacing the kitchen and shivering uncontrollably while shrugging off all Mrs. Weasley's attempts and calming the poor boy down. He didn't even seem to have heard the fuming Ron. Mrs. Weasley threw down the towel in exasperation, leaving the kitchen with mutterings of a Calming Drought.

Then, Moody shoved his way through the dumbfounded trio in the doorway roughly, a bottle of firewhisky in hand. He made his way past Blaise and reached for a tumbler from a cabinet. Settling himself down on a stool at the kitchen counter, he spared a glance at the Slytherin as he poured the alcohol.

"You-Know-Who attacked his house. Got him out just in time." Moody grunted in explanation before downing the entire tumbler, grimacing as he did.

"They s-s-said they w-were going t-to t-t-talk…" Blaise muttered, shaking his head vigorously, his teeth chattering as his continued to pace.

Everyone looked at him, silent and waiting for him to go on. He didn't seem to see them. He stared at the ground unseeingly, as if behind his eyes he were replaying whatever hell he'd been through.

"I-I didn't j-j-join… I-I said n-no… F-f-ucking c-c-coward!" He swore at himself, angry now and still shivering terribly.

"Blaise- " Ginny started towards him, trying to calm him down.

The two boys still stood at the doorway, neither seeming to notice that Ginny was nearing the suspicious boy.

Blaise stopped suddenly, his eyes wide, terrified and staring straight ahead of him. His breathing became shallow. Ginny froze.

"T-they took her… T-t-they…"

His voice was barely a whisper, tears rolled down his pale cheeks and his breathing became even more labored. His face contorted with pain and his cheat heaved with the effort of breathing.

"Blaise…" Ginny started slowly again.

Without another word, he collapsed with a 'thud' on floor, Ginny rushing instantly to his side and the two boys to hers.

Moody grunted and threw back another tumbler of whisky.


End file.
